Lover's Leverage
by GSRfanatic25
Summary: This is the first fanfic I've ever submitted.  My first complete CSIGSR.  it's kind of cheesey, but i loved writing it! mention of sex, but not too bad. mostly from Sara's point of view. a lil angst for  Please RR! tell me what to do better, etc. enj


**Lover's Leverage**

Lover's leverage. She smirked at the thought, despite her overall crappy feeling, and slightly subsiding anger. She remembered using that exact phrase while interrogating Joanna McKay during the mental hospital case several years ago. Yep, lover's leverage was a pretty good description of what her apartment had become nowadays. It was her escape; something kept in her back pocket so she could distance herself from him during one of their few, but oh-so-furious fights. They hadn't had many, a fact for which she was grateful, but each time one erupted she had gotten into her SUV and driven to her now abandoned former abode. It wasn't home anymore, because it didn't have him, and she often thought about giving up her lease. She basically lived at his house now, and she loved it. But, she always put off giving up the small flat, and somewhere in her subconscious she knew she kept it as her safe-house of sorts. It was a jus-in-case; in case one of them really messed up, or if she ever, heaven forbid, actually lost him. She still couldn't fully believe that he would chose to stay with her forever, despite the many times he reminded her of that very fact, and despite the deep, frightening love that grew greater with each passing day within her. But now, she sat, all alone in her "safe-house," on the now neglected couch that she hadn't gotten around to selling either. She was sipping a beer she'd found in the fridge, left from the last time, many weeks ago, they'd had dinner there. She smiled a nice though finding its way briefly into her war torn brain. She recalled the other reason she had kept this place: for nostalgia's sake. She always cherished the memories of their first romantic encounter here. They had made love for the first time on the very couch on which she sat. It was after their third date, a night of dinner and dancing. Just being here made her smile, and thinking back to the somewhat awkward, but completely passion filled night they had shared. They'd frequently used this, her former bachelorette pad, as a romantic getaway of sorts, revisiting that lovely night, to have dinner, dance, and sleep together like a night in a hotel with a secret lover; it was something they did, I guess you could say, to keep the fire burning hot. "That doesn't matter now," she couldn't help thinking, ever the pessimist, she began to remember the past few hours, and the events of their small scale battle. With a sigh, she realized that she couldn't even remember what had started the fight. They were both tired, and frustrated from a long, hard case. They had said silly, unimportant, yet really awful things to each other. Because of the depth of their relationship, they both knew how to hurt the other just so, and they were both rather good at it. Somehow, tonight, for some reason, she had thrown Lady Heather's name into the pile of hateful words. She knew how sensitive he was about his friend, because of the years of torment he had endured despite their purely plutonic relationship, and she knew that they were only just friends. But she also knew that she was still threatened by that woman, and that in the heat of an argument, the green monster she housed inside could pull Heather's name out, and it was more effective in one-upping him that a good kick in the pants ever would be. She remembered now, with a shudder, the look of utter shock and deep pain she had seen etched into his beautiful blue eyes before she had turned and stormed out. She gasped at the memory of his suddenly pale face; and those eyes, that she idolized so much, filled with so much hurt. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of the man attached to those eyes; that man, damn him, could break her heart so easily, with one look. But, bless him even so, he was the only one that could ever put her heart back together, no matter how undeserving she felt. He was the only one who could make her melt into a complete, and totally happy pool at his feet. Oh, she loved him, so much, and she wanted to scream at herself at that moment for being so damn petty and heartless; and, for causing him to hurt like that.

She was startled when she felt something wet roll down her cheek. Her tears came full force then, without permission, but she made no move to stop them. All thought of their fight ceased, and she let herself go in body-wracking sobs as she fell into the couch. Wishing desperately that she could be falling into his soft embrace, she noted painfully, that she did not deserve his comfort at all after tonight.

_A butterfly struggles to fly, its wings heavy with weakness and exhaustion, and the effort to lift them is killing it slowly. Clouds roll overhead, and rain is eminent; if the butterfly doesn't find shelter soon, it will surely perish in the downpour. Out of nowhere appears a large, beautiful swan, swooping down, and landing beside the butterfly. Scooping up the lovely creature into its massive, protective wings, and shielding it from wind and rain and certain death…_

Sara sighed, stirred, and her eyes fluttered open. She noted that her face was damp from her waterfall of tears. It took her a second, but she quickly realized that there was a gentle pressure, rubbing small circles in between her shoulder blades. She couldn't see him, but she knew his touch better than she knew the back of her own hand; she also knew the warm, manly scent that wafted into her nose, the scent that made her mouth water with desire, and reminded her sharply where she was, and why. Sitting up quickly, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face into his broad chest, unable to meet his eyes. Her sobbing resumed, an unexplained surge of emotion weakening any resolve she had. The only words she could utter were repeated again and again, on top of each breathless sob: "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" He comforted her, even though she felt so unworthy of it. As if just realizing this, she pulled away suddenly, distancing herself form the beautiful man in front of her. He was perched on the coffee table, and she could tell he had been crying as well. When she finally met his eyes, the concern she found in them nearly made her wretch.

"Oh God Grissom," she finally managed to find her tongue, "what are you doing here: you shouldn't have followed me; you shouldn't be here comforting me. I was a bitch, oh honey, I'm so sorry…I'm so s-sorry…" she felt herself breaking down again. He was just sitting there, and she couldn't believe how much love she could still find in his gaze; he didn't look hurt anymore, and she marveled that the fact that he seemed to have forgiven her, despite her complete inability to forgive herself. And then, out of no where, something clicked. It was sudden, and startling, and yet somehow she felt she'd known it all along, she'd just been unable to accept or acknowledge it. He loved her, and she loved him, and it didn't matter what was said in the heat of the moment in a stupid little fight, not in the long run at least. The only thing that was being able to get past the insults, and pointless words. She didn't need to take out her frustrations on him, she just needed to share them with him, be honest with him. She also, she now recognized, needed to be able to trust herself not to run away at every sign of trouble. She didn't need a safe-house; she didn't need to be away from him, on the contrary…

"Sara?..." It was the huskiness in his questioning voice that started her from her chance, as she realized that she'd been in her own world for several minutes.

"Oh Gil, I feel so bad. I'm so sorry for what I said. I'm so sorry for running away. I'm dirt, Griss…" she was silenced, in the midst of his name, by his descending lips. She had never been able to resist his passionate kisses, never been able to stay strong in his enveloping arms that housed her small from just right, and had never been able to deny the lust of his luscious lips, which were second only to his eyes in her admiration. Her lips parted, begging his tongue to meet hers inside. His hands were holding the sides of her stomach in a reverence equal to a child holding a sacred Christmas present. Her arms were flung around his neck, as her hands desperately ran though his curls. The only thing that could separate them was a complete lack of oxygen several minutes later. They pulled apart, gasping for air, and basking in the warmth and passion that emanated between them. His eyes sparkled, as he ran soft fingers through her equally soft brown hair. One hand left her mane to find her free hand and entwine their fingers so harmoniously.

"Sara, my dear, you don't have to apologize. I love you no matter what, you know. I said some awful things too, and I'm sorry myself. I never want to really hurt you, honey, and I could kick myself for making you cry like that…" His voice, naught more than a whisper, drifted off.

"Gil…oh, sweetheart, no, I wasn't crying because of what you said. I don't even remember what you said really. I was crying because of what I said to you. I know how much it hurts you when I insult Heather like that, and when I desecrate your relationship with her. I feel like…oh, it doesn't matter. I was crying because of the hurt I saw in your beautiful blue eyes. And I was crying, because of this place. How I always run back to it to get away from you, to get away from our fights. I've just realized that I don't need this place anymore. I don't need to escape from you. Oh, honey, if you'll take me back, the first thing I'm going to do is terminate the lease on this place. At least that way you won't have to travel so far after we have a fight!"

He sat for a second, unreadable, and then he let out a laugh. She was confused, until he leaned in, and growled into her ear, "What are you talking about 'if I'll take you back?' What kind of fool would I be not to take back such a ravishing piece of woman? And, I ask you, what kind of man would I be not to take back a woman who would beat herself up so much over a silly little insult she gave me?" He leaned in and kissed her then, just enough to make her relax into his arms. "And as far as this place goes, are you sure that's what you want. I don't mind driving over here when we have fights, this is the best place for some heavy making up, if you catch my drift," his eyes twinkled as he continued. "And, you know, that would mean that we'll have to start paying for hotel rooms whenever we want a romantic weekend getaway!"

"I'm sure," she whispered, "I need to be sure that I won't run away anymore, I need to be sure I know I'm safe wherever you are! Besides, a hotel will be much cheaper than paying rent on this place every month."

His only reply was to bend down and place a light kiss on her forehead. As he did so, a smile began to spread across her face, matching his tooth for tooth. Lust darkened her chestnut eyes as she walked her fingers seductively up his arm. "Since you like making up so much, how about, we make this last night here, one to remember?" she stood up, and then added with a wink, "For old time's sake?" As he stood to join her, she leaned over and nipped at the skin on his neck playfully. A moment later she gasped, as he, showing an amazing feat of strength for his age, scooped her into his arms and carried her towards the bedroom. She knew, just then, or rather, she was reassured, as she was attacked by a fit of giggles, that she no longer needed lover's leverage. All she needed, for sure and certain, was him!

Fin!


End file.
